


I was like James Dean, for sure

by goodbyebluesky



Series: Requiem for blue jeans [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coffeeshop meetings, F/M, Famous! Percy, Young! Annabeth, fangirling, percabeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2520569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbyebluesky/pseuds/goodbyebluesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annabeth Chase is nine years old, and she knows there's no one on the planet better suited to her than Percy Jackson. He's eighteen, unattainable, and everything she's ever wanted. Famous! Percy and Young! Annabeth. Second in the 'Requiem for Blue Jeans' Series. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I was like James Dean, for sure

**Lyric: _I was like James Dean, for sure.”_**

**Prompt: Young! Annabeth crushing on Famous! Percy**

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X

Annabeth is only nine years old, but she knows already that there isn’t a person on the planet that’s better suited to her than Percy Jackson. The Hollywood heartthrob is _the_ talk at the moment, and Annabeth is hopelessly infatuated with him. Her mother says that he’s the next James Dean, the Elvis of the twenty-first century. He’s lusted after by more than half of the female population of the world, and has more talent in his thumb than Annabeth thinks she’ll probably have in her entire life.

His handsome face hangs on every wall in her bedroom, his deep ocean eyes being the last and first thing she sees when she falls asleep at night and wakes up in the morning every day. Her most-prized possession, a poster of him the size of her window, hangs directly over the headboard of her bed. Even though they’re just made of paper, Annabeth swears he looks at her, directly _at_ her and _through_ her. He doesn’t look like that in every other poster; he just looks like that especially for _her_.

She’s seen every Broadway show, blockbuster movie and music video that has him in it, even if it’s just a cameo. Her afternoons, after her homework (Of course) are spent cruising YouTube and looking at every interview he’s ever done, from talk shows to live webcams; she’s seen it all. She gushes over pictures, re-watches films she’s already seen a thousand times, and lies on her bed, endlessly fantasising about the day when she’ll meet him in person.

By the time she reaches the proud age of ten, she’s sure he knows more about him than even the biggest fan in the world. His birthday is written in her school diary, his favourite colours are hers, and quotes from his interviews are scrawled all over her notebooks.

She knows that as she grows up, that nine year age gap is really quite insurmountable, and as she grows closer to the age that she starts experimenting with boyfriends, she knows that he is also growing away from her.

Annabeth is growing up, and as her tastes start to change, so do the posters of her wall. Her wardrobe changes first. The shorts, polo-shirts and princess-dresses are replaced by skinny jeans, tight singlets and dresses that are better suited to her figure.

Next it’s her room, the ocean-green feature wall by her bed re-painted into sky-blue. As the poster opposite her bed turns into a photo of the New York skyline, the other posters of Percy’s face transform into grand buildings, posters of London, Sydney, Paris and Amsterdam.

There’s one poster that doesn’t disappear, and that’s the one above her bed.

Ten years have passed now, and Percy Jackson, although still prominent on the billboards and television ads, is no longer prominent in her head. The poster above her bed is still there, frayed around the edges and bearing multiple small rips in the paper where Annabeth’s brothers decided to scuffle with it.

Percy’s face is younger on the poster; it doesn’t match the face on the billboards anymore. Annabeth wonders whether his face in real life looks even older than the one they display on the billboards; she knows the wonders Photoshop can do. She sits on her bed and looks at him, her eyes tracing the worn contours of his face, the sparkles in his eyes and the complete confidence of his easy smile. Her mind drifts, and before she knows it she’s fantasising all over again.

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X

It’s a warm and sunny Thursday afternoon, and Annabeth’s on her way to the Starbucks three streets away from her school to do her homework. She usually walks home, but has a craving for a chocolate Frappuccino, and she’s not about to deny herself a quick chocolate fix. Besides, her apartment gets hot and stuffy this time of year, so she’d rather be somewhere cool. Tucked underneath her arm are the sketchbooks she used for last period art, the rest of her books in her backpack.

She crosses the busy street to get to the other side, ducking and weaving in between waiting cars. There are traffic jams around here all the time, but today seems to be worse than usual. The main street buzzes with the activity of bustling students, construction workers and moving cars. Annabeth weaves around a gaggle of giggling and laughing girls, before swinging the glass door open with her hip to catch the last rays of heat and descending into the refuge of the coffee shop.

It’s not as busy as she thought it would be, because not every seat is taken, and there are even a number of empty booths. It’s nice and cool, and quieter than the street outside. Two people are waiting in line, a nice-looking boy serving them at the counter. Annabeth joins the queue just as the first man receives his coffee and steps aside. “Is it always this busy?” The man in front of her says. He’s very tall, at least a head taller than Annabeth.

He’s dressed in dark jeans and a sky-blue shirt, the colour of her wall. It’s fitted tightly, outlining the hard muscles in his back and the tautness of his tanned arms. She knows she shouldn’t be looking at a complete stranger this intensely, but he’s caught her eye and she knows that she’s seen him somewhere before.

“Mental today, huh?” The barista answers, “I got no idea why.”  The stranger in front of her is angled in such a way that she can see the quirk of his lips; a smirk on one side of his face. He doesn’t answer, but takes his coffee and puts a ten dollar note in the tip jar. The barista grins at him as the stranger turns, and Annabeth spots a glint of sea-green eyes and messy black hair concealed by a Yankees baseball cap.

The pieces fall into place at once.

Percy Jackson just stood in front of her at a Starbucks.

All of a sudden, it makes sense; the traffic, the increased number of people on the streets, the unusual business. All those people are trying to catch a glimpse of the famous Percy Jackson. She feels a certain stab of smugness at the fact that she _does_ know where he is.

She orders her Frappuccino, and after receiving it, with cookie bits and all, sits down at an empty booth by the window. She knows that the windows have reflective glass, and that the people outside can’t see in. She looks outside, amused by the people that mill around, now that she knows why they’re there. She sips at her Frappuccino.

A shadow falls over her table.

She looks up, and the sip of chocolate freezes in her mouth.

Percy Jackson smiles easily, as easily as on the poster above her head and slides into her booth. “I got a feeling you know who I am.” He says, his voice deeper than Annabeth remembers. All she can do is nod dumbly, trying not to gape knowing that the chocolate will fall out of her mouth. Not very charming.

She swallows with difficulty and clears her throat. Percy glances out the window and slouches down. Annabeth notes, looking at his front now, that his shirt fits just as tightly from this angle and her eyes catch on the expensive pair of aviator sunglasses tucked into the V-neck of his shirt. Percy takes off his baseball cap, his messy hair flopping over his eyebrows.

He looks only slightly older than he does on the billboards, and much older compared to the poster of his eighteen-year old self. Annabeth knows he must be in his late-twenties now, but he doesn’t look a day over twenty-two.

“But, you see, we can’t have that.” He says. Annabeth wipes her palms on her jeans, wondering to high heaven why he chose to sit his good-looking and famous butt down at her table. She looks at him and feels a twinge of feeling in her chest stir into existence.

“My appearance here wasn’t supposed to be very public.” He continues, and grins at her. Annabeth smiles nervously. “But it leaked.” She guesses, “The wonders of the internet, huh?” She laughs nervously, once again wiping her clammy hands on her jeans.  Percy notices her fidgeting and looks at her in mock-seriousness. “You don’t have anything to do with this, do you?” He asks her.

Annabeth laughs again and quickly shakes her head. “No, no, no, no, no, no. No way.” She says, grinning at him and just _knowing_ that her casual approach was failing hilariously. If Percy is suspicious, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he just grins at her, a grin that makes Annabeth feel like she’s falling all over again.

“I just came here to get one of these.” She says, jiggling her Frappuccino cup in the air. Percy smiles again and nods like he understands.

“So you have absolutely _nothing_ to do with that group of girls outside our window?” Percy says. Annabeth instinctively turns her head to the side and looks out the window, only to find there’s nothing there.

Percy bursts out laughing, a sound so _masculine_ it can’t possibly belong to him. Annabeth’s cheeks flood with warmth when she turns her head back to him. Percy laughs again, the sound delicate against her ears. Annabeth looks into her lap where her fingers are fidgeting again. She looks up and her chest lurches when she sees him smiling at her.

It’s so easy to just ignore the feeling she gets with him, even though he’s more than five years her senior, but she can’t. In this short moment she feels like she’s already known him for her whole life. Their conversation flows like water, teasing and laughing and only _slight_ flirting at all the appropriate times. Annabeth experiences it in a daze. She still doesn’t believe she’s sharing coffee with her childhood idol.

Percy spots her notebooks and gestures towards them. Annabeth feels herself freeze up. “Are those yours?” He asks. “Could I take a look?” Annabeth nods uncertainly, biting her lip. Percy’s lips hitch upwards in a smile as he takes the top one and opens it, leafing through it with varying degrees of concentration on her face as he turns each page.

The childlike curiosity with which he thumbs through the pages, and the way his eyebrows scrunch together when he concentrates is so cute and unlike the A-lister Annabeth has come to know so much that she finds her childhood crush rearing its head again and sparking to life inside her.  

Percy flips through one book, then another, and finally the last before he lifts his head. His eyes are wide and full of wonder. “Wow. Just…Wow. That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.” He says, “You’re pretty cool, Annabeth. I’m glad I met you here today.” He returns the books back to Annabeth and smiles that breathtaking smile right at her.

Annabeth mirrors it, her heart lurching in response to his smile. His approval makes her feel like she’s slowly being drenched in warm water; covering every inch of her at a deliciously slow pace. She takes one look at him and just _knows._

There’s not a person on the planet better suited to her than Percy Jackson.

The nine-year age gap is truly insurmountable, but no one can take this afternoon away from her. Even after he leaves the coffee shop, flanked by two bodyguards she didn’t see before, is he etched into her mind in such a way that she’s sure he’ll never be able to leave.

Before she falls asleep that night she manages to recount every minute of their conversation whilst she stares at his poster above her wall, his easy smile and ocean-green eyes tantalisingly familiar. She dreams about him that night, and the next, and the next. Her fantasies may never become her reality, but she’s beyond thankful for the opportunity to meet him.

And when she opens her latest sketchbook to the last page, she sees a scrawled message, _To Annabeth, one in a million._ Underneath is a large autograph and a heart drawn with their initials. Annabeth giggles like she’s nine years old again and falls asleep with his autograph pressed to her heart.

She might grow up, and her tastes might change again, but for now she could tell herself that she had loved him, and he had maybe even loved her back.


End file.
